The littles are in bed, my work is done, and finally, I’m hunkering down with my laptop and a nice cup of (decaf) coffee.
So, where do we begin?
Maybe you get heavenly stars in your eyes when you start thinking about the Kingdom of God. You’re ready to make radical Kingdom decisions. To create a deeper community and connect with neighbors and let go of old hurts and give generously and live thoughtfully and love abundantly.
And then the church service is over. And it’s time to go home and figure out what’s for lunch and let the dog out and remember to switch the laundry and follow up on those work e-mails and catch-up on Netflix and reschedule the doctor’s appointment and…
Oh. How quickly the Kingdom of God is forgotten for little kingdom stuff, huh?
Our homes become big distractions.
But, they don’t have to be. Our homes (and how we live in them) project — in a very real way — our priorities and values. Our daily routines, interactions, choices — all of it can point to a Kingdom unlike anything else.
When Jesus was traveling, he met a man who hadn’t been right for a long time. The townspeople all knew him. He lived alone. He didn’t wear clothes. He suffered from many demons. He was deranged. A lost cause. Things were not okay. Things were terrible.
And then Jesus, in all of his compassion and power and glory, made things right. He healed him. And when Jesus got ready to leave the town, the newly-healed man wanted to go with him. Because of course. But Jesus sent him back, telling him to return home to tell of how much God had done for him and in him. I read this story this morning, and it reminded me that as a Kingdom dweller, the stories of how God has — and is — working for me and in me and through me are all important.
So we return home. And remember our stories. And tell our stories.
When we remember our stories, our homes cease being distractions.
When we remember the Kingdom, we can start living the Kingdom.
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